[Finished] Realmeye Fanfiction Contest ~by Scorchmist


#30

Several days after Mynamerr was banned for shitposting on the forum Scorchmist visits Enfnuiwrbvu.

“Hey, lets go. We’ve got some merching to do.” Scorchmist commanded.

“What for?” Enfnuiwrbvu replied.

“A better PC! You’ve got to keep up with our forum games.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not going anywhere without-”

“You mean your boyfriend Mynamerr?” Scorchmist interrupted. “Yeah, I kidnapped him. Err… I mean I picked him up along the way…” He continued.

“You kidnapped Mynamerr?” Enfnuiwrbvu questioned.

“I mean, it wasn’t too difficult. After he escaped from his ban he went hide under your window hoping you wouldn’t see him.”


#31

A little shy boy walked down the street
He had a tendency to look down at his feet,

He teased his schoolfriends all day long
One started to cry and ran back to his mom,

Woke up in the toilet after one hazy night
Walked to his house and got in a fight,

Off in a rage he never came back
This once innocent boy’s name was @JawsJakt .


#32

there used to be a small town called Rubbishaven. Rubbishaven’s most prominent export was “loads of rubbish”, where these came from and what they’re made of is unknown, but it’s definitely a load of rubbish. All the citizens of Rubbishaven are called Rubbishletts, and are typically absolutely preposterous in number and have a collective IQ of approximately not quite enough. the Rubbishletts somehow managed to continue to manufacture loads of rubbish despite the absolutely preposterous population and the unfortunately subpar intelligence of the average rubbishlett.
BUT ONE DAY…
they ran out of rubbish.
how this is even remotely feasible has confounded even the most learned scholar, “How does an entire city run out of rubbish?” “Wait, what exactly is rubbish?” “…” “I think I need to think about something more important that the nature of rubbish.” Most internal thought-processes continue in a futile manner similar to the one staged here, whenever they attempt to think about rubbish that is.
Rubbishaven did absolutely nothing for exactly e[some big number * π] days, because there were too many Rubbishletts in a single Rubbishovel to be anything more useful than a 4 day-old cake. (A cake, I might add, that did NOT have frosting.) Things looked slightly more bleak than normal for poor Rubbishaven, but then, exactly eπi hours later, a mighty god descended from the heavens upon Rubbishaven.
A god who answered only to the name:
# Xaklor
He then totally and completely failed to explain to the Rubbishletts that he was in fact, NOT a god, but rather a normal person who had this totally rad jetpack that happened to be passing by. The Rubbishletts pleaded with their newfound patron deity that they were out of precious rubbish, and needed more loads of rubbish. Xaklor, a being so filled with compassion and mercy, (but mostly just felt like messing with an entire population of morons since they insisted he was a god for some silly reason) pointed the Rubbishletts to an overabundant source of rubbish, the “RealmEye Forums”.
They couldn’t find any.
The wise and omniscient (but probably just sadistic) Xaklor gave them an infinite supply of rubbish directly, since they were too dumb to harvest it from the forums. This infinite well of rubbish was given the title:
Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V, "load of rubbish"
mostly just because Rubbishletts aren’t quite smart enough to create a more interesting title.
And Xaklor surveyed the joy upon the Rubbishlett’s faces, and saw that it was good. (and really funny)
Xaklor, having finished his great and noble task, re-ascended into the heavens. (and then went home and played RotMG all day because the jetpack was out of fuel and he has no life)

This concludes our tale of the great almighty one,
#Xaklor: Lord of Rubbish


#33

Thought it was not Realm related? :wink:


#34

The Mods against the storm of shitposts
Night cast its violent shadow over the forums. Dark clouds rumbled ominously overhead. Harsh trolls hurled insults and trouble towards the bowing heads of the sleeping Mods. A thick rug of inactivity smothered the forum topics. The freezing night shielded the isolated haven from the light of the Regulars. A shitposter ripped through abandoned topics in their thin layer of dust, howling obscenities at the unspeaking wardens of the forums, daring them to fall out of line and into their grasp of biased opinions. The tall guards stood silently while the keyboard-‘warriors’ raced rings around them, screeching, scrabbling to the steady beat of rolling thunder. Yet the Mods did not yield as the minions of dissent spread among their ranks. They were too experienced to fall to trivial sledging.


#35

Too much creativity for a single thread.

Good job guys, gimme moar!


#36

what i meant was that, was not a lore about orxy or something, but one on a person, but it could be able there experience in game. If that makes sense

Crap forgot to put the end date.


#38

there was once a boy named scorchmist

One day he got sucked into the virtual world by an entity call Mr Eyeball to combat the evil mad god oryx

with a thundering voice Mr Eyeball announced that henceforth scorchmist will be my avatar

scorchmist went on doing Mr eyeball’s work by vanquishing the evil minions of oryx.

When scorchmist tried to confront oryx, oryx shotgun scorchmist to death and in the mad lab, Dr Terrible, under Oryx’s order, revived scorchmist as an agent working for oryx

scorchmist reported back to Mr Eyeball but Mr Eyeball was watching scorchmist all the while and saw through the facade and with a giant laser blast shot scorchmist

Since oryx power was strong within scorchmist, he did not die immediately. Scorchmist slowly melted with loud cries of anguish until his throat melted.
The picture above captures scorchmist in his final moments while being liquefied with tears gushing down his eyes, regreting all the bad trades the posted using Mr eyeball’s name under oryx infuence


A Realmeye Christmas [CLOSED]
#39

Im surprised that shax isnt here.


#40

It was a dark, stormy day. Shatters was on his pc running some dungeons with his main warriory and skyping with Scorchmist. He was farming some vit to help Scorchmist max. He was rushing the last abyss for scorchmist to max when… BANG. A gunshot went off in his house. Shatters was frightened and he nearly shat his pants. He walked slowly to his door and slowly opened it. " Mom? Dad? what happened?" Yelled Shatters. No one answered. “DUDE UR 8/8 WARRIOR JUST DIED WTF MAN” Schorchmist yelled from the pc, but Shatters couldn’t hear him. Shatters took it upon himself to investigate. He walks around his house and sees nothing. He hears some sounds coming from the kitcken. He heard a very faint sound “oyeah hunny boo make me ur slave”. He walks into the kitchen and sees the most horrific action being done. His dad and mom were doing some really kinky shit. “OHMAIGOD WAHT THE FUCK ARE U GUYS DOING” Screamed Shatters. His mom was bent over in a D-VA costume with an apple in her mouth and his dad was feathering her arse while wearing a Spiderman outfit with a Batman mask on. His dad was holding a gun. He was the one who made the gunshot. “WAIT SON we can explain!” said his dad. Shatters ran back to his room screaming. He was traumatized by what he had just witnessed. He went back on to his computer to try to forget about what he had just experienced. He saw the death screen of his warrior when he got back on. He forgot to nexus before walking away from his computer to investigate.“DUDE! Where’d u faking go!” Said Scorchmist," u forgot to nexus when u left and the demons killed ur warrior". “FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK” Shatters yelled “THAT WAS MY LAST JUGG”. He was so angry he punched his $1200 pc. THE END


@Shatter


#41

Shatter wasn’t the only one traumatised

The fck did I just read


#42

lmao u made a backstory to his death nicely done :joy:


#43
An Innocuous Meeting : Part I

MrEyeball chuckled. Or rather, Doc did. Yes, believe it or not, Doc is MrEyeball and MrEyeball is Doc.

His real identity, however, was Mr. Stephen Davis. Mr. Davis was middle-aged, turning fifty-three in two weeks. Long hours staring at computer screens had left permanent, almost comical bags under his eyes though he was still surprisingly in good-shape despite his age. But the inevitable ‘middle-age-belly’ had started to develop and he was no longer in optimal mating condition. He was married, thirty years, but long hours of work had made the marriage indifferent.

The cursor dragged across his screen and he clicked ‘Reply’. “Stupid kids,” he thought. “Especially that one annoying kid, UnicornSla.”

A few quick keystrokes and another window was brought up. Squinting, Mr. Davis traced his fingers against a dull spreadsheet of numbers and found what he was looking for. His finger stopped abruptly on a green number and he sighed. So far so good. Another year, and RealmEye was still making money. What’s more the forums had seen some good growth since Shatter’s Christmas giveaway event, hopefully translating to a bit more income for him.

Mr. Davis frowned. Shatter. His thoughts about business and money suddenly switched towards the elusive forums addict. While Shatter claimed to be a guy, Mr. Davis wasn’t so sure. The way he talked on the forums seemed to give an impression of a more feminine character, and Mr. Davis (who was in his office) gave a quick scan around to make sure nobody was looking at him, the proceeded to stalk blue-fish.

After an hour of unsuccessful searching, Mr. Davis finally stopped, flexing his thighs in preparation to get some coffee when he saw a message pop-up. An involuntary harumph made its way out of the aged body and his thighs relaxed. A few deft clicks could be heard, and Mr. Davis began to read:

Dear Doc,

I really appreciate your commitment and dedication to the forums. I apologize, but I was trying to find out more about you earlier and chanced upon some information that revealed where you live. Would you be interested in coming to coffee with me?
- Shatter

Mr. Davis, or rather Doc, blinked. He had become so accustomed to assuming online personas that whenever he sat down on the computer with RealmEye open, he was Doc. Nobody else. A loud crash caused him to jump, and only after did he confirm the benevolent nature of the noise did Doc begin to respond.

Dear Shatter,

I’d love to, lunch in half an hour, meet at Dingos?

Almost inhumanly fast, another notification.

Dear Doc,

Will meet you there, at 12:00 sharp.

To be continued, al NSFW version if you guys want :wink:


An Innocuous Meeting : Part II

It was 12:01 and Doc fixed his eyes intently on the clock. Perhaps Shatter had set him up, and he was wasting his time. He clasped his hands together, then unfolded them. What if he was a girl? Doc’s hands started to clam-up, and with as much grace and elegance as he could muster, he picked up his tea cup and drank deeply. The noise of the hot liquid going down his esophagus seemed magnified in the small restaurant. What should he say? You’re a good player? By now, Doc’s hands were practically sweating buckets and he wiped them vigorously against his dark dress pants. He smiled. That’s the good thing about having dark pants, water stains doesn’t show up. Dingo’s was a dingy place, with a smell - somewhat reminiscent of old ladies and cigars - permeating the air. Doc turned, as casually as he could, and did what he always did when he waited; observe.

At lunchtime, the restaurant would be half-full at best, but the economy had taken a toll recently. Two couples were stuffed in the corner, sitting at a small rectangular table. One of the males laughed, seemingly forced, and the other three chimed in the artificial cacophony. Doc’s eyes moved on, like honey dripping, towards a lone man who was eating a salad. It felt quite wrong - the man was giant - that he should eat a salad was a crime against nature, thought Doc.

By now, he had scanned more than half the room but a charming, feminine voice shook Doc from his tranced-Sherlock state. “Are you Doc?” Almost instantly, shooting almost painful heat shot up into his face and the hands that had dried off just recently were greased again. “Yes.” That was all he managed to say as he somewhat awkwardly pivoted/shuffled on his bum to find a pair of penetrating green eyes staring into his own dull ones. Shatter was indeed a girl, slender and petite but with rather perky breasts. She was no younger than eighteen, but definitely not older than twenty-five and had her luscious blonde hair in a tight bun.

“I’m Shatter, well my real name is Angela though. What’s yours?” Angela stretched out a well-lotioned hand.

“I’m Doc… er, well I mean Steven.”

“I think I’ll just call you Doc, Mr. Steven.”

A pause followed.

“Well, I’m starved, let’s get some food!”

After an awkward initial exchange, Doc and Shatter became slightly more comfortable, though no less platonic. They talked about a variety of things, first RotMG, than the recent election as everybody does, and found a shared interest in orienteering. Then, when it was 12:40, Doc feigned a stretch and got up languidly.

“I’ll pay, we should see each other tonight. Maybe I’ll even play for once.”

Shatter flashed a smile, one of the rare smiles that makes ones heart twist and flutter until an observer would think they had had a heart attack. It didn’t help that Doc was over fifty.

“Of course.”

Well, go deep or go home, was a mantra I lived by in my earlier days… I didn’t want to be too graphic lest @Doc sees this :kiss:.


An Innocuous Meeting : Part III <font color="red">¡NSFW!</font>

Over RealmEye, the ecstatic two exchanged phone numbers and decided the most sensible thing to do was that Doc would come over to Shatter’s house once his wife had slept. At home, Doc was on edge, and every question from his wife that on any other day would have seemed routine struck a nerve.

It was almost eleven before husband and wife went to bed. It didn’t help that Doc shared his bed, and it neared midnight before his wife was safely asleep. With much care and caution, Doc slowly rolled over, cringing at every creak the bed made. His wife made an guttural growl and proceeded to roll over to the opposite side of the bed.

A glowing computer screen pierced the darkness as he made his way down their moderately sized bungalow and he felt a pang of guilt for what he was about to do. But a fierce denial erupted from within, so volatile Doc nearly lost his footing on the third last step of the stairs. Almost thirty years of marriage and no children, no nothing. Heck, he didn’t even remember why he married her in the first place, she was shrewd, lethargic and boring.

A second thought dissuaded Doc from using the car, as it was parked in the garage which meant he would have to open it. The garage door was old, the paint peeling and made horrible screeching noises audible from at least two houses away. Not that any of his neighbours had better doors. He decided to try out a discount Uber, to preserve anonymity, even walking two blocks to prevent the driver from knowing where he came from.

The address Shatter had given him boasted a peculiar charm to it: 17 Hensdale Way. Something about the number seventeen resonated, perhaps it was a prime number. When the driver pulled up to the house and fractiously demanded the total owed, Doc hesitantly gave him the money, quickly telling him to stay another minute. Skittishly, he pulled out his phone and checked the text. 17 Hensdale Way. Doc told the driver to wait for another five minutes because he was unsure if this was the correct place, to which the driver responded with an irritable grunt.

The house, or more precisely, the mansion had a Gothic gate with a narrow path leading up to it. The gate was already unlocked and Doc had a bad feeling that this was the wrong house. But he walked along the path anyways, completely ignoring the beauty and bliss of the French windows that would have been revealed during the daytime.

Doc stood at the front of the doors. In actuality, they were comparatively small when looking at similar mansions but they appeared dominating and monolithic to him. A succession of three timid raps on the door summoned a solemn looking butler, who ushered him in with unnecessary haste. Then, as suddenly as he was ushered in, the butler left.

“Looking pristine,” a raspy voice called, apparently from nowhere.

Doc spun around, but there was nothing.

An abrupt whiff of perfume caught his nostrils and before he knew it, Shatter had him pinned against a wall, hands caressing buttocks, tongue in mouth.

There was a noticeable change in temperature, and Shatter marched Doc down a majestic hallway and swerved to the left. Inside the chamber they entered was a four-person jacuzzi, and it looked out of place; too modern for the antique feel the mansion had.

“Let’s have some fun.”

Doc stripped down, as dignified as he could in front of a lady. Unsure about the underwear, Doc hesitated but Shatter advanced upon him and forcefully ripped them off his frame. Hand clammy, Doc was led into the bubbling jacuzzi, apparently prepared for them by the butler. He sat down, and found the angle of the backrest to be too low, but before he could adjust, Shatter sat down in the dead centre of his lap, laying her head on the cushiony area between deltoid and chest.

“Let’s have some fun,” she stated again, and began to get down to work. Before he knew it, an orgastic eruption of neurons compromised his vision and an involuntary series of shallow breaths followed.

Later in Shatter’s bed-chamber, they went to work again. She groaned and he, still in commendable physical shape, jack-hammered until the orgastic revelation commenced one more.

It was only afterwards, the two cuddling, when Shatter asked, “Now can I be a mod?” A light dawned upon his eyes and Doc looked up, horrified at pair of dead eyes staring at him, realizing only now that this entire affair had been a false disillusionment, and the only intent had been hedonistic lust.

Nobody heard the screams, and when his body was found three days later at the bottom of the falls, it was assumed that Doc had committed suicide.

“He was depressed,” said a coworker, “It was inevitable.”


Cheese
Ducky Needs Realm GF
#44


#45

ayy the frogs are back


#46

Better than ever


#47

wtf


#49

you could ask everyone to highlight their entry’s text in red to make them stand out from the rest when scrolling


#50

Please dont use that color, its too bright


#52

well it was an idea. there probably should be a way to sort the entries from the rest of this load of rubbish but i can’t think of another way right now